Thursday, March 31

The Inquirer reports that at least "six to seven hectares of a coral reef in Bulan, Sorsogon, home to the world's largest manta rays, are facing extinction if authorities do not move fast. A large colony of crown of thorns, a kind of starfish, has invaded the Tacdugan Reef, 13 km off the coast of this town."

I would personally want to know what a crown of thorns looks like, and I have this feeling that it's not in any way connected to Jesus and that it's not friendly looking, not at all. I'm also a bit bugged that when it comes to the final showdown, the manta rays would get knocked down (can't they get up again?) by starish. Starfish! Who would have known that manta rays are such gentle creatures, "tolerant of humans, but dangerous when threatened. They use their wings to seize enemies and squeeze them to death." Come on, you manta rays, you. Go and bludgeon them starfishies to death! Okay, so I won't win the Nobel and no world peace. So there.

Nate Kushner exposes Laura K. Krishna, a bored, little rich girl who's willing to pay $75 for a paper on Hinduism. Laura Krishna sends him an IM after seeing his aol profile which cites one of his hobbies as "Eating Hindu Sculpture" -- which somehow certifies him as an expert on the topic. The paper was due the following day, and Kushner decides to blast her to hell. After all, he's an English major and he did his own goddamn papers, dammit. So he haggles for the paycheck, and then conjures up a paper complete with fake citations guaranteed to send your professor over to google and check it. I specially like this part:

"Karma, which follows you throughout your many lifetimes, determines which class you will be in for any given lifetime. You may be demoted to an animal, reallocated within the class structure, or even elevated to a deity. Your actions in each lifetime affect your karma, and if a Shudra watches dharma and greg, it will have a positive effect on his karma, perhaps elevating him into a class in which she will be allowed to study the Vedas and progress along its spiritual path."

Read the rest of the worst plagiarism faux pas here. And since it's paper checking season, this sort of story makes me extremely cautious of student papers. The only thing worst that being a stupid plagiarist is to have your deed broadcast over the internet and you're the last one to know. Okay, students, beware.

An excerpt from the report reads: "BATES TOWNSHIP, Mich. (AP) - A man cooking in his kitchen was shot after one of his cats knocked his 9mm handgun onto the floor, discharging the weapon, Michigan State Police said.

"Joseph Stanton, 29, of Bates Township in Iron County, was shot in his lower torso around 6 p.m. Tuesday, the state police post in Iron River reported. He was transported to Iron County Community Hospital."

I still say it's not the poor feline's fault. If there's anything that should be done, give that cat shooting lessons. Nyar.

All the book geeks (kind of redundant, ei?) have been passing this survey around so I figured it'll be a matter of time before it reaches me. Markmomukhamo passed on the geek baton and if you've also been browsing the Team Angas blog, you'll know what's on my shelf, but here we go.

You’re stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?

This is kind of funny because just last night, I debated getting that 12 peso copy of Fahrenheit at Booksale. I mean, it's from the 60s, and the cover says it'd be turned into a movie directed by Francois Truffaut. I already have a copy, but the cover art's different, then eventually I tore myself away from it.

Does Thomas J. Sennett from My Girl count? He is fictional, albeit of the cinematic sort. But if you insist, I had a thing for Tyler Durden.

The last book you’ve bought is:

You're in luck, because I've just dropped by Booksale last night. Got Bee Season by Myla Goldberg because the author photo promised that it should be a fun read; and also Never Mind the Pollacks, the "rock and roll novel" by Neal Pollack.

A bunch: Killing Time in a Warm Place and Man Overboard by Butch Dalisay, Lonely Planet's Unpacked Again, and Queen Bees and Wannabes. Mostly nonfiction. Plus a ton of student papers and blue books. Those must count for something, at least.

Tuesday, March 29

The Dead Caulfields sounds like the name of a punk band, but is actually a website dedicated to the work of reclusive author JD Salinger, but does not tackle his legendary seclusion.

Check out the Salinger timeline and follow the author from his New York City childhood to his adventures as an enlisted Army man during World War II. There are also bits and pieces referring to him, like that of Truman Capote describing Salinger as a "boy who cries very easily."

This is actually a bit ancient, but still tasty nonetheless. Stephen King, who moonlights as a columnist for Entertainment Weekly, polled readers for the best movie lines ever.

He got thousands of replies from which he selected the Top 12 Best Movie Lines Ever. The links don't show the complete list and EW wants you to register before you can read the actual article, so I'll just paste the list here.

8. "You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together...and blow."--Marie Browning (Lauren Bacall) in "To Have and Have Not"

9. "If I'd been a ranch, they would've named me Bar Nothin'."--Gilda (Rita Hayworth) in "Gilda"

10. "Veda's convinced me that alligators have the right idea: They eat their young."--Ida Corwin (Eve Arden) in "Mildred Pierce"

11. "You're not too smart, are you? I like that in a man.--Matty Walker (Kathleen Turner) in "Body Heat"

12. "Get outta here! And don't come back for five to seven days!"--Vada Sultenfuss (Anna Chlumsky) in "My Girl"

Surprisingly, about 25% of the list are from The Princess Bride, which I don't really remember. Both lists considered, what I really like though is #12. The quote refers to the first time Vada got her period and she shooed away the character played by Macaulay Culkin in the movie. It was from my favorite movie the summer I was around twelve and crushing on Macaulay Culkin. Of course now, both actors have all but almost disappeared off the face of the planet but I really really loved the movie and even went out and got one of my first soundtrack albums ever because, in no particular order, (1) Vada had a crush on her English teacher; (2) She wanted to be a writer; and (3) I heart Mac in glasses.

I suppose, more than anything, certain movies speak to you when you're a particular age, like this did. Consider its tagline: "When your Dad's an undertaker, your Mom's in heaven, and your Grandma's got a screw loose...it's good to have a friend who understands you. Even if he is a boy." Vada Sultenfuss, as played by Anna Chlumsky, was a precocious little girl and obssessed about death. She's a bit of a tomboy who bosses around her best friend Thomas J. All summer they hang out by her front porch, sneak out to bingo games, ride bikes, play bowling. And they also wear Chucks all the time.

The film was set in the early 70s, so I dug out my mother's clothes, and apparently that's not the hot thing to do if you're going to attend high school where the freshmen didn't have any uniforms.

The Romblon trip is tomorrow and BnC writes about putting together her summer reading list from the combined resources of Booksale and Tita Tamadita. At least I'm not the only Booksale addict who'd pick up multiple copies of books.

During my last Booksale trip, I saw a lot of interesting finds which I resisted because I already have copies of them. Kept on finding Jacob Have I Loved, with different covers and I had to pin my hands behind my back because I already have three of those, in different sizes and cover art. Nyar.

BnC scored a copy of The Stranger for 12p, and she's finished reading it too. I also have a Booksale copy of the Camus novel, and I've brought it along with me on several out of town trips but I've never been able to finish it. I don't know, maybe I'm past my existentialist phase.

I'm sort of torn what to bring. I'm definitely bringing the erotica. Part of me wants something easy like maybe The Devil Likes Prada or something. I'm looking at my stack and it's full of nonfiction books. Maybe I'll settle on Queen Bees and Wannabes, which was the basis for Mean Girls, just to get me in the mood for writing my YA story. (Meanwhile, Amazon offers a DVD twinpack that contains Mean Girls andClueless. Interesting.)

If you've got other suggestions on what's good to read by the beach, just holler and it'll be much appreciated.

Jessa Crispin of Bookslut recommends this book to all the girls who are thinking of snagging a bloke and walking down the aisle all dressed in white (or beige, ecru, mother of pearl or whatever motif you can think of, please, just think of your guests who have to hunt down that specific shade you so adore) and saying "I do." The Meaning of Wife is an examination of wifedom and all that it implies--that "diamonds are bad and monopolized, marriage is harmful to women and beneficial to men, unmarried women with important jobs aren't unmarried because of their jobs, they have the jobs because they're unmarried."

I mean, think about it: If you're female, of marriageable age, and you hold down a job, what are the chances that you're giving it all up once some guy with a ring shows up? So okay, maybe a whole lot of you will consider doing just that if it does happen, but what of girl power and equality and all that?

While I totally agree with what the author Anne Kingston has to say, I'm just a bit worried about the cover. Just look at that. While the contents say that you do know what you're getting into, the cover is just so angry. It's screaming, "Goddamn guys, all of you!" And then you say you want to marry them? Feh. Some consistency must be in order.

Monday, March 21

Found yet another perfect distraction to stall me from writing my paper. Ran some errands this afternoon. Which basically meant that I needed to get new surf shorts because the pair I own had magically shrunk--or I had ballooned--depends on what I want to believe. (Over the weekend, my friend JC expressed amazement at my spectacular ability to expand: "Amazing! It's only a week since I last saw you, and you're..." voice trails off as I tightened my grip on my fork, ready for World War III.)

So surf shorts. But before I got to the shop, I passed by Booksale. And you know Booksale: it's evil. Just pure evil! Took me a while but here's what I got for a whopping 95 pesoses: (1) Salinger's Franny and Zooey, with the white cover and green stripes from the 1960s; (2) The O. Henry Awards from the 70s; (3) Philip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. I have a pirated copy of this one back from sci-fi class, but it's just twenty bucks so I got it as well.

And my prized find is (4) One Hot Second: Stories about Desire, and it's for young adults, yey! The collection seems promising enough. From secret crushes to first kisses, first times and everything else in between. I wish I found this book at the start of the sem, when it would have been the most useful, and not right now when I'm cramming for deadlines and papers, which are still blissfully ignored. If you were me and you were made to choose between Gayatri Spivak (or Homi Bhaba or one of them Africans--it doesn't matter) and hormonal teenagers, between one hot second and death by postcolonial theory, which would you elect to read? No contest, right? Now, if only these damn theorists wrote in fluid prose and just quit the polysyllables, I'd be a happy kitty.

*I was going to call this entry "(Don't) give me theory or give me death!" then I recoiled at the awful grammar. So there.

Sunday, March 20

If you were to own just one "Twisted" volume among the six from iconoclast Zafra, then this one is it. Strapping together the best of her selected work, Zafra is presented here in her acerbic essence. See pop culture distilled and skewered! See the world as we know dissected and experimented on! More than just intelligent and funny takes on everyday life, "Twisted 7" is a testament to the ironic, often ridiculous and sometimes sublime world we live in, an exercise in smirking world domination from the oft-imitated yet still vintage Jessica Zafra.

Twisted 7! Seven, for chrissakes! For someone whose bookshelves still bear the evindence of past addictions--some friends dropped by The Dungeon to borrow books and perused my shelves and remarked that I had way too many Zafra titles, and that's just talking about the office bookshelf--I literally choked on my chocolate. If I got it right, this particular volume is something like a "Best of" installment. Of course, I'm wondering how this would turn out, but I don't have the compulsion to run right out and get it. Oh well. Guess I'm not fifteen anymore.

Sunday, March 13

Salon interviews Dave Eggers and he tells us how people in and around the quarter age mark are so self-centered:

"You're 25 and you truly think your thoughts and your goals are the main engine that keeps the world turning. And that's true and completely ludicrous at the same time. Anyway, I think that's why so many first novels are either semi-autobiographical or baldly autobiographical, because at that age, you're really trying to figure out your own sense of self and what you are and what you mean to the world."

At 25, the world is your oyster. Which would have been nice, except that I'm allergic to shellfish. Feh. This comes from a man who hasn't written anything in the third person--at least not before his latest collection of short fiction, "How We Are Hungry." (And if you love, as in you really really love me, you'll ship me a copy of the book. Hehe.) There's still a lot of self-reflexivity and experimentation--he has a story told in 7 blank pages.

Also interesting is that Eggers is working with Spike Jonze for the screen adaptation of "Where the Wild Things Are." He says that Maurice Sendak approves of his version of things. Now, I would really want to see that.

Saturday, March 12

I got out of bed a bit too early after staying out late the night before. Was staring vacuously at the tube when Maricel Laxa popped on the screen wielding a smile and a recipe for Italian-Style Eggplants.

Made me want to run to supermarket and try out my new kitchenomically tested recipe. That is, if I get out of my zombie like state. Martha Stewart, hear my call.

UPDATED: Another affirmation that you must never believe what you see on tv. The recipe looked easy enough when Maricel Laxa was doing it--like it'll be over in ten minutes. But it's not really true, and I never learn my lesson.

Skinnning them eggplants is real torture. First, you must take care not to slice too thin or else they're ruined. Second, when they say "boil the eggplant skins for 2 minutes," you must subtract and boil them for 90 seconds. Those 30 seconds make a difference or else you'll end up with too limp shells. Third, don't let your brother do the stuffing because he'll eventually stuff everything in one shell and it'll look like your dinner's about to self-destruct in 5 seconds. And lastly, oh yeah, use really large eggplants. Or else experience hell trying to peel them.

But in the end, my batch of Italian Eggplants looked and tasted nice. And for the price of a single restaurant entree, too! But it's such a chore we might as well go back to eating out like we did last week.

Friday, March 11

The Boston Globe chronicles the debacles of being young and gifted, and well, the accompanying pitfalls of it.

The word "prodigy" comes from the Latin prodigium, meaning omen or portent, a harbinger of change. It also means something that violates the natural order. History has been kind to some prodigies - think Mozart or Einstein. At the same time, society has been suspicious of eccentrics. Consider the contrasting fates of two prodigies from the early 20th century. Norbert Wiener entered Tufts University in 1906 at age 11 and went on to graduate studies at Harvard in 1909. That same year, a brilliant 11-year-old named William James Sidis also enrolled at Harvard. Wiener became the father of cybernetics. Sidis became a recluse who collected streetcar transfers. He died alone and disillusioned at the age of 46.

What contributes to such dramatically different outcomes? Certainly, American society doesn't lionize its young scholars the way it does its young athletes and, to some degree, its young artists. In the days of Wiener and Sidis, there were few resources for profoundly gifted children, who were often isolated in a world that didn't understand them. Some were declared geniuses and pushed into the limelight, where, depending on their temperament, they either floundered or thrived.

Off the top of my head, all the kid geniuses that come to mind are most often fractured individuals. I think of that quiz kid in Magnolia, and somehow, you'd want to thank that Promil wasn't around then when I was a kid.

Just ranting. Am partly listening to a lecture and my mind is up in the clouds from lack of sleep.

Wednesday, March 9

Anyhow, found this photo at his homepage. I'm doing some research on him for my MA postcolonial lit theory class and I'm stuck with reading his novel Killing Time in a Warm Place for like the ten millionth time, but I'm not really complaining.

My only complaint is that it's a Wednesday and it's supposed to be my rest day but here I am slaving off because we have a make up class with Neil later and I have a sorry looking copy of the book on my lap, my 3rd copy, but I have no choice but to buy the last one that Powerbooks has on its shelf because I was always lending books then and I lost all of them, plastic covered and author signed, and it's reporting day and I don't have enough time to whip up a fabulous report but this will do, this will do.

There are a hundred things she has tried to chase away the things she won't remember and that she can't even let herself think about because that's when the birds scream and the worms crawl and somewhere in her mind it's always raining a slow and endless drizzle.

You will hear that she has left the country, that there was a gift she wanted you to have, but it is lost before it reaches you. Late one night the telephone will sing, and a voice that might be hers will say something that you cannot interpret before the connection crackles and is broken.

Several years later, from a taxi, you will see someone in a doorway who looks like her, but she will be gone by the time you persuade the driver to stop. You will never see her again.

Whenever it rains you think of her.

*Not found from his blog but through a lyrics page for a Tori Amos song.

This meme was cribbed from Noringai, although in a slightly altered version. Might be old hat to most of you, but here we go:

Step 1: Get your playlist together, put it on random, and play! Step 2: Pick your favorite lines from the first 25 songs that play! Step 3: Post and let everyone you know guess what song the lines come from!Step 4: Cross out the songs when someone guesses correctly!

Then something really weird happened: Every two songs was an Eraserheads song and every fifth song was an instrumental/film theme/foreign lyrics/instrumental film theme from a Korean movie. I didn’t know what to do so I just didn’t count in all the Heads songs after the second one (blink blink) and all the songs without lyrics or the interviews with obscure personalities that somehow crowded my audio folder.

So here it is, my random music meme:

1. When you leave I'm begging you not to go, call your name two or three times in a row. Such a funny thing for me to try to explain. How I'm feeling and my pride is the one to blame. --Crazy in Love, Beyonce Knowles feat. Vaness Wu

2. Here I stand head in hand, turn my face to the wall. If she´s gone I can´t go on, feeling two foot small.

3. Confront your enemies, avoid them when you can. A gentleman will walk but never run.

4. Now I do as I please, and I lie through my teeth. Someone might get hurt, but it won't be me. She'll probably feel cheap, but I'll just feel free, and a little bit empty.

5. I am covered in skin. No one gets to come in. Pull me out from inside. I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding.

10. She's got herself a little piece of heaven. Waiting for the time when Earth shall be as one.

11. In my dreams I'm dying all the time. As I wake this kaleidoscopic mind. I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to lie. So this is goodbye. This is goodbye.

12. That is why all the girls in town follow you all around. Just like me they long to be close to you. --Close to You, Karen Mok version

13. If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall. Or the mountain should crumble to the sea. I won't cry, I won't cry. No, I won't shed a tear. --Stand By Me, Ben E. King

14. You're the closest heaven that I'll ever be. And I don't want to go home right now. --Iris, Goo Goo Dolls

15. Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see. It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out, it doesn't matter much to me.

16. Well, it's a lie it's a lie - don't you believe it. If you're fine then you're fine - it's all how you see it. Oh, there never will be no conspiracy of happiness.--On A High, Duncan Sheik

17. I drove for miles and miles and wound up at your door. --She Will Be Loved, Maroon 5

18. She didn’t know how to live in a town that was rough. It didn’t take long before she knew she'd had enough. Walking home in her wrapped up world. She survived but she’s feeling old cause she found all things cold.

19. Oh no! My bestfriend's gay. It's the same old friend I had yesterday and he's happy and gay. --This Guy's In Love With You, Pare

20. I'd like to watch you sleep at night, to hear you breathe by my side.

21. Sing to me the song of the stars. Of your galaxy dancing and laughing and laughing again.--Only Hope, Mandy Moore

Wednesday, March 2

This is one of those news reports you'd expect to happen in the Philippines but not elsewhere. You know, it's right up to that category of Woman-Gives-Birth-to-snake/fish/insertyourfavoritescalyanimalhere. (Or, insert the inappropriate toilet joke here.)

Makes you want to run right out and rent a video of Shake, Rattle, and Roll for that Manilyn Reynes episode called "Nanay," where this slimy creature follows her home after a field trip because she accidentally brought home its nest of unhatched eggs. Not sure if it's SRR 3, 4, 5 or 6 since the franchise had become undistinguished by then. All I'm sure of is that this particular installment also had Kris Aquino burying an undead sister perhaps titled "Ate." And perhaps it included the "Yaya" episode with Aiza Seguerra and that creature from the trees. But it's all blurry for me since by the time the 90s rolled around, her supposed decade of popularity, Manilyn Reynes became synonymous with "horrible horror movie." But those were fun times, before horror inevitably featured Asian chicks with bad hair days.

But back to the news: It's one of those perfect excuses for being late for work or school. "Can't do the presentation/report now, boss/prof. I got me a python sticking out of me toilet." Of course, it might come back to bite you in the arse. But that also reminds me of this one time our punk friend Sig said he'd be late because the elephants (or was it the giraffes?) were crossing the road. Barring that episode where an elephant did stroll down Edsa, who would believe your whacked excuse? Not unless you're Sig who lives across the Manila Zoo and the zoo just lost their water supply and said animals were given their baths at the playground opposite. Again, fun times. Wish I lived across the zoo though.